


Don't Make Friends, Make Messes

by Kitsu



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Another Night at an Inn, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, During season 2, M/M, Messy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 02, Shameless Smut, Teeth and Nails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: Another night at a nameless inn, and Trevor can't take Alucard's riling any longer.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Trevor Belmont/Trevor Belmont | Alucard
Comments: 29
Kudos: 393





	Don't Make Friends, Make Messes

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written these before, but I've been laid out with the flu all the holiday season and I watched the two seasons out twice over while sick. Because of that I started having bunnies - can't call them plot bunnies though, because there is no plot to be found here. This is *just* smut. Enjoy.

Trevor Belmont didn’t make friends. He made messes, and bad choices. He made fists, and bruises, and cuts, and lots and lots of enemies. He made drunken promises and equally inebriated threats. He made the Grim Reaper’s job easier whenever faced with monsters, and prided himself in being the reason behind half the current queue at Hell’s gates.

And still, there he was, in the constant company of a half-breed vampire and a Speaker magician. Both whom he sort of... if not liked, then at least tolerated, to a degree. Alucard and Sypha.

Sypha was quick-witted, self-assured, knowledgeable. A smart-ass and a mother hen, even though she was younger than both of the others, at least based on her looks. He’d never bothered to ask exactly how old she actually was - a gentleman never asked a lady her age. It wasn’t important, she still looked after them, worried, berated. Acted as their root and stabilizer, calmed them when they got too out of hand.

Because out of hand they got, as Alucard was infuriatingly annoying, either haughtily looking down his nose at Trevor, his face a perfect example of contemptuous indifference, or with a shit-eating grin plastered on the very same face. His was a face Trevor just couldn’t decide if he wanted to plant his fist in - or kiss the living hell out of. Same with the hair - that aggravating golden halo of a fallen angel. He wanted to both turn it into a noose and strangle Alucard with it, and just fucking run his fingers through it in awe and appreciation. Every part of Alucard made his blood boil, one way or another. He was simply exasperating. His own bloody antithesis.

And yet, Trevor had come to consider him _company_. One who knew him, understood him, even though he belittled him at every opportunity. Being without Alucard, and Sypha, would feel... cold. Empty. Lonely. Trevor didn’t want to return to that, to the days where he wandered aimlessly, alone, the last of his despised kin.

Blood boiling felt degrees better than blood frozen. He didn’t even feel the constant need to drink himself senseless to feel the heat any longer - though he still liked a good bottle now and then. Having people around him, people to engage with, made him less abrasive, he even noticed it himself. Especially Sypha calmed him. She berated him every time he went too far, and he usually heeded her words and cooled his head.

Alucard’s words, on the other hand… They burned. Inflamed. Shaking his head, he tried to clear it, tried to calm the rage in his veins. He couldn’t even remember what Alucard had said this time, just that it hurt. And made him want to punch something. Someone. They were alone in a bedroom at a dilapidated inn, the furniture sparse, leaving the logical target for his rage its root cause.

“What, that hit too close to home, asshole?” There it was, Alucard’s monotonous voice in his ears again. “Did your mouth stop working again, Belmont?”

Oh, that was fucking _it_. Letting go of any impulse control, Trevor closed the distance between them in a few long strides, grabbing hold the front of Alucard’s shirt, bunching his fist in it, fully intent on smashing the other fist against Alucard’s spiteful grin - but then something primal took control, turned his actions at the last moment. Instead of breaking Alucard’s nose, he crushed his lips against the vampire’s, ignoring the sharp pricks of fangs, the metallic tang in filling his mouth and his mind.

And Alucard’s long, infuriatingly elegant fingers was in his hair, not pulling him away, but scratching against skin, pulling him closer, deeper, _urging_.

Pulling away hesitantly, Trevor managed to rasp: “My mouth works perfectly fine. How about yours?”

Alucard licked his lips, the small taste not enough. Far from enough. It had tasted different from previous _meals_ , vital. Potent.

“Offer me more, and you’ll find out.” He’d never drink from anyone unwilling, but he craved more, needed more. It was a shocking realization. Breathing heavily, he found that his hands were still tangled in Trevor’s hair, toying with a dark lock. He paused for only a fraction of a second, before his mind decided it felt right and he should continue.

Trevor froze, the implications of Alucard’s words hard for him to process. Would he let him drink from him? A Belmont willingly offering himself up to a vampire - and then the realization hit him. He trusted Alucard enough to let him. Had, for quite a while now. And he would, if it shut Alucard’s mouth for long enough for him to be able to keep touching him, to... fuck him. Yup, that was what he wanted, what he craved. “Let me fuck you, and I’d let you fucking drain me.” It was the truth - he needed Alucard out of his system, out of his veins, to think clearly again.

And then Alucard’s hands moved, palms splayed flat on Trevor’s torso, pushing him back and down on a rickety bench. Alucard clambered into Trevor’s lap, his usual elegance displaced by an almost franticness. Animalistic, feral, but still him. With quick, deft fingers, he undid the fastenings of Trevor’s trousers, freeing his cock. Chilled fingers wrapped around warm flesh, strong, demanding, willing it to attention.

Trevor’s hands pushed Alucard’s coat off his shoulders, tugged at his shirt. He didn’t mind that it meant Alucard had to let go of him, he wanted the annoying pieces of fabric gone, wanted to touch the pale, pale skin underneath. Alucard obliged him, shrugging the coat of his arms and pulling the shirt over his head. As he did, his hair cascaded down over his shoulder, angelic, ethereal, and yet not.

“Beautiful,” Trevor whispered. “Fucking hate it.” And yet he reached to touch it, to run his fingers through the lengths, lifting it to study it as it slipped between his fingers. “... _like sand_.”

Twining it tighter around his hand he pulled Alucard closer. “Lose the trousers.”

Alucard chuckled, but he seemed to catch on quickly. Untangling himself from Trevor’s hands he stood up, removing his last few items of clothing. Standing bared before Trevor he grinned, baring his fangs. A thing of moonlight, of the twilight, too pale to be sunlight, to bright to be darkness.

Blood called to blood. Belmont to vampire. Vampire to Belmont. Trevor felt a growl build up in his throat, felt the hiss of it pass his teeth, and he grabbed Alucard by the hip, pulling him back down in his lap. Running his hands up Alucard’s sides and torso, he traced the scar running across it with his fingers - a ragged edge, darker, angrier than the rest of his skin. Permanent, it seemed, even on the half-breed. The one thing to make him seem alive, to distinguish him from a marble statue.

Alucard hissed at the touch, Trevor’s fingers heated against his own cool skin. Nerves beneath the scar reacted in weird ways, calling up echoes elsewhere in his body. When Belmont’s nails raked across a nipple, he dropped his head back, breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Whatever else the annoying little shit was, he had clever hands, and a clever mouth, and… then the mouth was on his skin, licking a path up his chest, to the hollow of his throat, up the side of his throat to nestle beneath his ear. A vampire baring his throat to a Belmont. So backwards, and yet so right. A human’s teeth wouldn’t draw blood like Alucard’s would, but they left marks. Marks that faded too quickly, but still… For a moment he was marked as _someone’s_.

The little sounds escaping Alucard was driving Trevor crazy, the hum in the back of his throat, the hiss of air between his teeth so close to Trevor’s ears. He wanted more, wanted louder. Sliding his hands back down Alucard’s sides, nails and rough skin against perfect, unmarred skin, he moved them to cup Alucard’s ass. Pulling him closer even, cock pressed against cock, Trevor couldn’t help but push up against Alucard, rubbing skin against skin. But it wasn't enough, he needed more, wanted more. But he wasn’t fucking Alucard dry, it would hurt both. Frustrated, he groaned. He hadn’t exactly been prepared for this event unfolding, no matter how many times similar scenarios had played out in his dreams.

Alucard dropped his chin low, looking down at Trevor. The frustration was clear on Trevor’s face, and the fingertips resting against his entrance told him of its source. Chuckling, he untangled himself from Trevor’s grip yet again, and in a flash of preternatural speed he was across the room, rifling through discarded items of clothing until finding what he was searching for. In another flash, he was back in Trevor’s lap, imposing, towering, magnificent - mirroring their first meet, hand in Trevor’s hair, pulling his head back and staring him straight in the eyes. His hair cascaded around them, curtained them and his eyes reflected what little moonlight drifted in the window, bright and shining, but blown wide, dark.

Yes, this was it. This was why Trevor’s mind could never decide whether he wanted to kill the half-blood or fuck him raw. That first meeting - _fuck_ , fighting a half-naked, dancing, golden whirlwind, so powerful, so dangerous, had riled him, turned him on even back then. His knife hadn’t been the only thing he’d wanted to impale Alucard on, but with Sypha watching…

Above him, Alucard inhaled deeply, and laughed, baring his fangs. “Time to get this moving.” He pushed whatever was in his free hand into Trevor’s. “Fuck me, Belmont.”

Those words were fire in Trevor's ears, and who was he to deny Alucard anything he wanted. The thing in his hand turned out to be a bottle of oil, exactly what he needed. Probably whatever Alucard used to keep his sword pristine - his literal sword. Popping the cork he smelled the content, and the faint vegetable smell told him at least it wouldn’t burn or sting on skin. Coating his fingers in it, he once again placed his hands on Alucard’s ass, tracing the line down the middle with the pads of his fingers, finding the entrance. Pushing against it, past the ring of muscle, finger pushing in past the first knuckle earned him a groan from Alucard, who lifted slightly from Trevor’s lap, an involuntary motion that ended with him impaling himself further on Trevor’s digit.

“Oh, _fuck_ …,” fell from Trevor’s lips, probably his favourite phrase of the day. Adding another finger was easy enough, Alucard never giving any sign it was too much, his hand still pulling Trevor’s head back, unblinking eyes staring into Trevor’s as he impaled himself on fingers, over and over.

Trevor felt his breath speed up, simply from the sight of it. It was ungodly, evil, corrupt and carnal. His heart was beating hard against his ribs, skipping a beat every time Alucard’s face twitched, turned, showed any sign of emotion outside the toothy, fang-baring half-smile.

Trevor needed to see more of the expressions, needed to break Alucard’s mask. He dropped the bottle of lube, and quickly wrapped his newly-free hand around Alucard’s erection, flesh hard in his hand, warm, velvety skin. The sound escaping Alucard at the touch was primal, a groan bubbling up from deep in his chest, reverberating.

“Fuck me,” Alucard repeated. “Now.”

This time was it was Trevor’s turn to growl, the urgency of Alucard’s words egging him on. Removing his fingers from Alucard’s ass, he placed his hands on Alucard’s hips, urging him to lift up on his knees a bit. With a bit more room to move, Trevor easily lifted Alucard, getting on his feet and carried the other man over to the bed with ease. With ease, he thought, but it was still an armful of danger, death, fangs, long arms and legs wrapping around his own torso. He seriously had a death wish.

Clumsily sitting down on the bed, Alucard still in his lap, Trevor scooted back and laid down on his back, leaving Alucard sitting across his hips, Trevor’s cock poking at his ass unceremoniously. Notching an eyebrow wickedly, Trevor chuckled. “Feel free to take what you want.” Any of it. All of it.

He stopped laughing when Alucard instantly took him up on his words. Rising up on his knees again, lifting his ass, Alucard grabbed hold of Trevor’s cock, placed it at his own entrance and impaled himself on it, torturously slow.

Arching into the sensation, Trevor struggled to keep his eyes open, but he wouldn’t miss the sight for the world. Alucard looked like an angelic beast, his halo a dirty gold mess around his head, fangs and reflective eyes bright in the dim moonlight. Bottoming out, Alucard threw his head back, and Trevor swore the fangs grew longer, sharper, and the nails scraping his chest grew and morphed into razor blades, cutting skin and drawing blood.

Alucard inhaled, the scent of blood a blinding haze, thick in his nose and in his mouth. Tilting his head forward again, he stared down at the narrow gashes he’d made across Trevor’s chest - and he licked his lips. Feral and controlled at once. Dragging his fingers across the welts, a few drops of blood smeared across Trevor’s skin, and Alucard brought his fingers to his mouth, pink tongue licking the remnants of his fingertips. Instantly something changed in his eyes, hardened. A wolf-snarl escaped him, deep and growling, and he moved, impaling himself again, and again, harsh, sharp. Sinking forward, he hovered above Trevor, face to face, breath warm against skin. Leaning heavily on his arms, hands by Trevor’s face, he moved with intent, pushing and pulling, closer, closer, the coil in the pit of Trevor’s abdomen winding tighter and tighter.

Until he stopped abruptly and grabbed Trevor by the hair at the back of his skull, forcing it back, baring his throat.

“I said I want more. Will you indulge me?” Alucard’s voice in Trevor’s ear was honeyed grit, sweet and abrasive.

Had he had any sense of self-preservation, this was were Trevor should have ran away screaming, but no part of him wanted out. All he wanted was more, and more, and more. “I said to take what you want,” he said. “ _Whatever_.” It could have been his life, he wouldn’t have cared.

There was a hitch in Alucard’s breath, and then there was teeth at Trevor’s neck, dragging against the delicate skin beneath his ear. Then there was a pinprick pressure and a sharp, but short-lived pain. Something rushed through Trevor’s veins, a flood of pleasure leaving his toes and the tips of his fingers tingling, and his cock twitching inside Alucard.

“A... Adrian”, he groaned, earning him another yank to his hair. The slight pain and pleasure of it transformed, ran down the length of his spine and settled in the pit of his abdomen.

The teeth in his neck retracted, but the pulling sensation in his veins remained, Alucard’s mouth sucking at his neck, all tongue and mouth and slickness - a mess of blood and saliva. And still he moved on Trevor’s cock, gyrating, pushing and pulling, until Trevor started feeling faint, stars invading his field of vision.

“Enough,” he breathed, voice a coarse rasp in his throat.

There was a slight hesitation to Alucard’s motions, a hitch in his breath and a stiffness to his muscles. Dangerous, speaking of a battle between man and beast. But with a last, lingering lick along the line of Trevor’s throat, Alucard pulled away, pushed himself up on his arms until upright, palms again flat against Trevor’s chest.

Trevor stopped breathing. In that moment, the thing riding him was so far from human it could be - the golden hair seemingly floating around its owners head by a will of its own, golden eyes heavy, though burning icily, and blood - his blood - smeared messily across marble skin, split only by a bloodied grin that went right to Trevor’s cock. Alucard was a broken icon, a defiled, profane statue of Antiquity chiseled in the name of unnamed sexual desires, the inspiration behind every story of incubi and succubi, mare and siren all.

And Trevor moaned, his hands coming up to settle on Alucard’s hips, guiding, urging. Alucard’s nails dug into his chest again, but it only added to his abandon. Letting go of Alucard with one hand, he dragged it over the bloodied welts, coating his fingers in warm streaks of his own blood, offering them up to Alucard as a sacrifice to some heathen god. Alucard’s soft lips opened for his fingers, sucking gently at them, though the look in his eyes were still wild. His wet tongue, still bloodied, wrapped around the digits, in a mock image of a sexual deed, applying wet pressure.

In a stream of expletives, Trevor found himself unable to stay passive any longer, Alucard just too fucking enthralling, too fucking hot. He was going to Hell for this, might as well make the most of it. Sitting up, he lifted them up and moved them around until he had Alucard beneath him, long, delicate legs wrapped around his waist. Fisting Alucard’s hair less than gently, Trevor crushed their lips together, the metallic taste of his own blood overpowering, but tainted by something purely Alucard. The fangs sharp against his lips drew blood anew, but he barely felt it over the need running through his veins. He buried himself in Alucard, every way possible - thrusting as deep as he could, bottoming out, and pulling quickly back out, setting a punishing rhythm, pushing for release.

“Belmont,” Alucard moaned through bloodied teeth, needy, insistent, wantonly.

The simple word carried so much implied need, but Trevor wanted to hear it. “My name... Say my name.”

“Tre...vor.”

“Tell me what you want. What you need.”

“You… I need you. Need you like blood.”

It was the hottest thing Trevor had ever heard, those words falling from Alucard’s lips in a breathless, broken staccato.

“Fuck me. More.”

The haughty, arrogant, ice cold Alucard was begging. And Trevor obliged. Leaning his weight on one arm, he slid the other between them, wrapping his fingers around Alucard’s cock, stroking as best he could in time with his thrusts, the effort apparently appreciated, as Alucard’s words turned into a stream of incoherent babbling, interspersed with drawn out moans. Moans that concluded in a silent scream as Alucuard arched off the bed, staining both their bellies with his come.

The muscles tensing around him was more than enough to kick Trevor over the edge, the coiled heat in the pit of his abdomen giving way as he tossed his head back in a drawn out moan of Adrian’s name.

Collapsing on top of Alucard, he felt dirtied, bloodies, sweaty. Sticky. A moment later a hand tangled in his hair, soft, almost familiar.

“That was... nice,” Alucard said, voice raspy but almost back to his controlled normal.

“Nothing about that, nor you, was, is nice, you utter bastard.” Intense, life-changing, awesome, yes. _Nice_? No.

“I suppose that’s true. Still… A good effort.”

Trevor chuckled, he’d heard the mirth in Alucard’s voice. “A good effort, my ass. That was insane.” Like everything else about their situation.

“Talking about asses, next time it will indeed be your ass.”

“Next time?”

“Look me in the eyes, and tell me you don't want a repeat.” Alucard’s fingers curled beneath Trevor’s chin, lifting it until they were indeed staring at each other.

Trevor swore he could have gone again right then and there. Couldn’t tell Alucard that, though. “I don’t even like you, you cold-hearted bloodsucker.”

“You don’t have to, as long as there is a next time, no matter. I want more of you.”

And then Trevor realized the price of his soul was a simple “I want you” spoken in a devil’s sonorous voice, and that this bloody mess was most likely the worst he had gotten himself into in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> So, should I try my hand at these two again? No sure how well it went, I feel it is a bit disjointed, but maybe it suits them?


End file.
